


Baby You're A Haunted House

by Nixiie



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Biting, Domestic, Established Relationship, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Koujaku Loves It, M/M, Masochism, Noiz Can Feel, Noiz is a Brat, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Snark, They Just Really Like Pissing Each Other Off, assholes in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 09:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixiie/pseuds/Nixiie
Summary: Noiz and Koujaku are getting ready to go to a Hallowe'en party. Koujaku is not impressed with Noiz's costume.





	Baby You're A Haunted House

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some Halloween smut for you guys, and then realized i only had like a week so decided to keep it short. And then it turned out to be so much fun i wrote it in two days... Yay! Hope you enjoy it too!
> 
> AU where everybody got some kind of good ending, Noiz can feel, Koujaku beat his demons, and Aoba ended up with Clear.

Koujaku shrugs his shoulders experimentally, testing out the tailcoat’s limited mobility. It’s not often he wears western style clothing, and he feels uncomfortably confined. But when he turns to face himself in the full length mirror, the effect is worth it. He makes a chilling vampire. His long dark hair, red eyes, and pale complexion made the costume a logical choice for Aoba’s Hallowe’en party. He’d had to hunt Midorijima’s thrift shops and tailors for the perfect pieces to bring it together, a vintage tailcoat and trousers, red waistcoat, and crisp white shirt, and beautiful black boots. As he moves, his cape floats eerily around him, completing the effect. It had been the most difficult part of the costume to come by, the cheap shit in Halloween shops was just tawdry. He wouldn’t be caught dead (and certainly not undead) in something like that. In the end he’d had to commission it from one of his hairdressing clients, a fashion designer who had been coming to him for years. (But not one of the ones he used to sleep with. He doesn’t see those clients anymore.) The cape is long, jet black with a red silk interior, that shines dully in the warm light of his bedroom. It’s high winged collar frames his face, accentuating his strong jaw and cheek bones. He picks up a makeup brush and begins to smudge dark powder around his eyes, deepening the shadows, making himself look haunted, dark, brooding. All things he has every right to be he supposes, but he’s chosen a better life than letting himself be consumed by his past. 

As he focuses on applying his makeup, minimal, artful, just enough to look dead, but not like a caricature, Koujaku can hear Noiz rustling on the bed behind him. When he takes a peek over his shoulder he finds him shirtless in black jeans, digging through his backpack. Noiz had refused to tell Koujaku what his costume was going to be, but so far so good as far as Koujaku is concerned. He’s always happy to see his boyfriend half dressed, even if he’d never say that to his face. 

Pleased with how this night is going, Koujaku turns back to the mirror to apply the final piece of his costume. The fangs were also custom made, little caps that fit over his incisors with some kind of dental paste that hardens to hold them in place. They’re small enough not to obstruct his ability to speak or eat normally, but when he smiles, it’s with the gleaming mouth of a predator. Koujaku has spent most of his life trying not to be a monster, he’s better than his base urges, better than his anger, but somehow, wearing the face of one feels almost freeing. Sometimes, he supposes, it’s good to let your demons out a little. It probably helps that he looks good. He looks _ really damn good _. All the time and money that went into this costume was definitely worth it. 

Koujaku gives himself a feral smile in the mirror and turns to grab his swords from their rack on the wall, contemplating the best way to hide them under his costume. The prospect of leaving the house without them is unthinkable, but they really don’t fit in with this look. Wrong country, wrong era. After a bit of trial and error he gets them situated under his cape, he’ll take them off when he gets to the party, but walking there unarmed would just be tempting fate, and Koujaku is not a fool.

Satisfied, he sets the blades back down on his dresser and turns dramatically to face the bed. Noiz is propped on the edge looking up at him, and Koujaku catches the hunger in his boyfriend’s eyes before he can quickly school his face to impassivity. _ Perfect, that was exactly the reaction he was hoping for _ . He looks _ good. _

And then he takes in what Noiz is wearing. 

It’s a fucking _ travesty. _ Noiz is leaned back on Koujaku’s bed, in black jeans, fucking bright green socks with a hole in the toe, and a skeleton hoodie. _ A fucking hoodie! _ It’s not even a fucking costume, he wears the thing around the house all the time. The little shit put in literally _ zero _ effort. 

Koujaku doesn’t even know how to respond. He’s fucking furious. He can’t show up to a party with Noiz looking like this. After all the work he put in, all the thought, and planning, and time searching for the perfect costume. He’s honestly embarrassed to be seen with him. Fucking Noiz, always a pain in his ass, always making his life difficult, it’s as if the brat gets off on it.

Noiz smirks slightly, raising one eyebrow, “what’s wrong old man?” He was hoping for this reaction, there’s nothing like the thrill of making Koujaku simmer with rage. It shivers down his spine, Koujaku angry is a force to be reckoned with, he’s a fight Noiz might actually lose. There aren’t many people who can beat Noiz in a fight. It’s fucking hot.

_ “You little shit!” _ Koujaku tries and fails to contain his anger. “You _ cannot _ wear that to Aoba and Clear’s party.” 

“Why not?” Noiz asks, unsuccessfully feigning innocence. “I’m a skeleton! Look!” He flails his arms indicating the ribcage printed on his chest. 

“Noiz…” Koujaku takes a deep breath. 

“Yeeesss?”

“You look fucking terrible. This is a joke. You’re a fucking joke! Why did i ever think you could take anything seriously?”

“Hey! I take plenty of things seriously! I take food very seriously.” Noiz’s smirk is getting broader, his lime green eyes dancing with mischief. There’s practically steam coming out of Koujaku’s ears. “I also take Rhyme seriously! …Buuuuuut,” Noiz continues, “if you want me to change into something different,” his fingers move to the zipper of his hoodie, slowly tugging it down to reveal a few inches of naked skin, “you’re gonna have to make me.”

“Fuck off you little brat, we do not have time for this.”

“Awwww, what’s wrong old man? Afraid you’re gonna put your back out?”

Koujaku stands stock still as anger and desire wage a war across his face. He looks so fucking hot in his costume, Noiz has been watching him pick it out for weeks, waiting for exactly this opportunatiy. Getting Koujaku all hot and bothered is something else he takes very seriously, and Koujaku as a vampire? Yeah, Noiz is_ all about that. _ He slips off the bed and slides to his knees, thighs spread wide, unzipping the hoodie lower. The zipper teeth part against pale skin, stretched tight over prominent ribs, and lightly defined abs; the piercings through his nipples and navel catch the light. Koujaku’s mouth waters. He curls his lip in frustration, bearing his teeth, and Noiz can see the fangs, and the lipstick smeared bloody red around the inside of his lips, and fuck it’s so hot. He imagines it’s his blood in Koujaku’s mouth, it wouldn’t be the first time. The image turns him on even more. He loves when Koujaku hurts him, sinks nails and teeth into his hungry flesh, loves the way pain mingles with pleasure in his mind until both combine to drive him over the edge. He shudders, rolling his hips, feeling his cock hardening in his tight black jeans.

Biting his pierced lip, Noiz falls to his hands and knees and slinks forward, “C’mon baby,” he purrs, moving to press his face against Koujaku’s thigh, “you know you want me.” He grins wickedly up at him, “or are you too old to get it up?”

“Stop that!” Koujaku growls, “You’re gonna fuck up my suit.” But his hand is in Noiz’s hair, pressing him forward, making a fist in the pale blond strands. Noiz groans at the tingling pain in his scalp and rises to his knees, pressing his face into Koujaku’s crotch, hands moving to grip the backs of his thighs. He can feel Koujaku’s cock starting harden in twitching pulses against his mouth and cheek. _ Perfect _.

“Mmmmm, let me help you out of it then,” Noiz’s fingers go to Koujaku’s belt, and Koujaku shudders, trying not to give in to the inevitable, before yanking Noiz up by his hair, and crushing their mouths together in a punishing kiss. 

Koujaku’s mouth is hot, and hard, clashing feral against Noiz’s lips, pushing his mouth open, demanding his compliance, stealing his breath, and the fangs, _ oh shit the fangs _ . They’re so fucking good. Noiz runs his tongue over them, catches the piercing on one sharp point, he wants to feel them sink through his flesh. He groans. _ This was a very, very good idea. _

Koujaku grabs him roughly by the shoulders and grinds against him, fingers digging into flesh, nearly tearing the offending hoodie off him. He growls and throws Noiz backwards, shoving him onto the bed, then stalking forward to pin him down. “You...obnoxious...little...brat,” he snarls, each word punctuated by brutal kisses against the rising pulse in Noiz’s neck. Noiz lets out a little moan of pleasure. This was _ exactly _ what he was hoping for. He loves how rough Koujaku is with him, pissing him off is _ always _ worth it. 

Ten minutes later they’re both naked, well planned and shitty costume crumpled together on the floor. Koujaku’s makeup is smeared over Noiz’s neck and chest, warring for prominence with the bruises his mouth has left all over Noiz’s pale skin. His boyfriend shakes beneath him, fingernails digging into the hard muscle of Koujaku’s tattooed back. “_ Fuuuuuuuck,” _ he groans, _ “please old man, don’t make me beg for it.” _

Koujaku grins, red eyes glinting with with malice. He licks a line up Noiz’s throat, bites down, fake fangs uncomfortable in his mouth, but loving how they make Noiz gasp and shudder in his arms. “Beg for what brat?” His cock presses forward, just teasing at the fluttering heat of Noiz’s entrance. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Fuck! _ Koujaku!” _ Noiz moans as Koujaku makes a fist in his hair and pulls. When he regains control of his face it’s to meet Koujaku’s eyes with a hungry sneer, “I thought you didn’t want to be late you prissy bastard, _ so hurry up and fuck me already! _”

Koujaku pulls back and slaps him, wiping the smug look off his pretty, pierced face. “You little shit!” he growls, and rams forward, impaling Noiz in one rough thrust. And Noiz would be smug, Koujaku just gave him exactly what he wants, but he’s too busy throwing his head back, and gasping out a moan as his body is overwhelmed by violent pleasure. Sex was alright before he could feel, but now it's something different; it's unbelievable how _good _Koujaku feels inside him, how his body sings with the glowing, bleeding ecstasy of it.

The fuck like animals, vicious, all teeth, and sweat, and cursing violent mouths. Koujaku hisses as as Noiz sinks teeth into his neck, fucks him harder, reaching between them to yank at the thick barbell pierced through the head of Noiz's cock. And then Noiz is keening, clamping down harder, thighs tight around Koujaku’s hips, fingers yanking through his hair. Koujaku pulls out and flips Noiz over onto his stomach, plunges back into him, pinning Noiz beneath the weight of his body, pounding him into the mattress, hard, and fast, and brutal. 

The violent sound of colliding bodies is punctuated by their voices, harsh moans and desperate cries of pleasure as they tear each other apart in ecstasy. Neither of them are gentle men. Noiz couldn’t fake it if he tried, his foul mouth and bad attitude are inalienable. Koujaku has faked it for most of his life, but who he is here, with Noiz, is much more honest. He can face himself in the mirror of Noiz's violence. And Noiz loves the part of himself that Koujaku has always tried to hide from. His anger, his pain, his power, Noiz absorbs all of it, always fights back, always wants more. In a strange twisted way, they complete each other, fulfilling needs neither of them had wanted to admit to. Koujaku gives Noiz both the violence and the tenderness he has always craved, and Noiz gives Koujaku an outlet, a place he can let go of his carefully cultivated control.

Noiz’s back arches, his moaning is smothered by Koujaku’s hand over his mouth, his body feels like it’s on fire, _ “Please!” _ he moans, clawing away Koujaku’s fingers, “C’mon babe, make me cum.”

“That’s more like it!” Koujaku pants, yanking Noiz backwards until he’s sitting in his lap. One of Koujaku’s big sword-callused hands strokes roughly over Noiz’s aching cock, the other twisting hard at the piercing through one nipple. “You gonna be a good boy for me now?”

“Fuck you old man!” Noiz gasps, voice breaking over the words, “Make me cum! Make me fucking bleed for you!”

Koujaku growls, still hammering into him with furious power, and bites down hard on Noiz’s neck, tastes his blood. His fake fangs have long since been knocked out of his mouth, but his real teeth do a better job anyway. Noiz cries out, back arching, body straining, and cums, hot and messy in Koujaku’s hand. Koujaku doesn’t wait for him to recover, every clenching pulse of Noiz’s body around him is ecstasy, and he pushes him back down on the bed, keeps fucking him, hard and rough until his vision is going red, and his breath is coming in short harsh gasps, and he’s cumming too, hips stuttering, spilling inside his boyfriend’s spasming, overstimulated body. 

When Koujaku finally relaxes and pulls out they roll apart, gasping, and then find each other again, hot mouths working against bruising lips, bodies clasped tight in each other’s arms as they struggle to catch their breath. 

“I love you, you awful bastard,” Noiz pants, fingers combing through the tangled mess of Koujaku’s long dark hair. 

“You too brat,” Koujaku smiles, “Love you too.”

Eventually they collect themselves enough to begin the process of getting ready all over again. Koujaku wants to be annoyed, but he’s still coming down from the unfathomable high of sex, and he just can’t manage it. He dresses, redoes his hair, fixes his makeup, trying to cover the bruises now ringing his neck. Do vampires even bruise? 

Noiz digs back into his backpack and comes out with black thigh high socks, he pulls them on over his jeans, aligning the skeletal legs patterned into them with his own bones. Fingerless skeleton gloves follow, and then a makeup kit. He sits in front of Kougaku’s mirror and begins to paint a grinning skull over his still flushed face. 

“You utter shit,” Koujaku says, still in too good a mood to be anything but amused, “I can’t believe you. You had a real fucking costume in there all along.” 

“And aren’t you glad i didn’t just put it on to begin with?” Noiz says mildly, before flashing him a devilish grin.

Koujaku lets out a long, theatrical sigh, “You are the absolute worst, you know that?” 

“You love it.” 

Koujaku groans. “Here, let me help you with that.” He sits in front of Noiz, gently caressing his cheek and takes the brush from his hand. 

“Thanks,” Noiz murmurs, but he smiles as Koujaku takes over painting his face, doing a much better job than he’d probably manage on his own.

They’re very late to the party.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly really proud of myself for keeping this a reasonable length. It was a serious challenge to myself to write something short for once. I hope it worked! Let me know what you think in the comments? I love hearing from you guys, it always makes my day.
> 
> This fic is named after [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaxHIYOzMUQ), which has been stuck in my head since i first heard it, and demanded i write a Halloween fic with this title.


End file.
